Rendition
by Jiia-chan
Summary: Sheik/Link. When you're raised thinking the Goddesses have a plan for you, it's easy to get complacent. You start to think, as long as I do what I'm told, everything will turn out all right. Only most of the time, the Goddesses aren't on your side.
1. Chapter 1 Before Dawn

Hey, y'all! I've been promising a new, coherent version of Three Word Phrase for like... Years now, and here's the beginning of it. I've been working on it for ages, and I'm glad to finally be actually posting this.

In addition to the story, I'm also going to be doing some other stuff, mostly for my own amusement, but you're free to enjoy it too, of course. ^.~ Each chapter will have an illustration to go along with it, posted here - .com/gallery/#Rendition at my deviantArt account. There'll also be random art posted there relating to Rendition-verse, although not necessarilly the story itself. I'm also planning to do short comics focusing on Impa, Sheik and Zelda's misadventures during Link's seven year 'll be posted in my deviantArt page too.

I'm also in the process of launching a new website, which will also have some Zelda-related and Rendition-verse art in it. The stuff on my website will all be pay-for, however, as I'm currently trying to replace all the electronics in my house thanks to some evil, evil fellow. It'll be pretty cheap, though, like five cents for desktops and pr0n and such. I'll also be taking commissions, if you want them.

Also on this website, I'll be posting information about the various languages I've invented for Rendition-verse. At the moment, the only one I have really web-ready is Sheikah, which is fully learnable, although the dictionary is a little bit sad atm. ^.^ I'm also planning on creating a version of Gerudo and Old Hylian, for you language buffs out there. I know you exist.

Anyways, without further ado, I present to you;

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Rendition

Chapter One; Before Dawn

When I was a kid, my father used to tell me about the old days, when we were really people and not _tash'en-ruh_*. We used to worship the sun back then. No-one had even heard of the Goddesses, or, as my father put it, they hadn't been invented yet. We lived in mountain valleys and in caves, only they weren't caves so much as they were buildings built into the rock. There were lots of us, so many that we filled up whole cities. We even had a king.

That was why the Hylians wanted us, to begin with. There were more of us then there were of them, and we were stronger than they were. We were good allies back then, and we had all sorts of skills and powers and magic that they didn't even know about. They needed us to fight their war for them, and we did.

Only it didn't end there. We might have been strong, but we were stupid, and we never bothered to ask what would happen after the war was over and half our warriors were dead.

So my father said, at least. My Hylian tutors had a very different version of things. Theirs is the one in the history books, but everyone knows you can't trust everything you read. Or what you hear, for that matter. But hey, it's just history, right? It doesn't make any difference, in the end.

Only without history, I wouldn't be trying to squeeze my shapely, spandex-clad hiney onto a windowsill the width of two of my fingers without falling three storeys and putting a serious kink in Destiny.

I really do not understand why I have to be the one to do this. I get why it needs to be done, sure, and I can deal with the whole 'bound in service to the royal family because of the sins/naiveté of my ancestors' thing, although that has always seemed just a little unfair to me. I just don't understand why it has to be _me._ Surely it would be easier for Little Miss Pretty-pants to flounce about if she was trying to pretend to be a woman? I know there aren't a lot of us Sheikah left around, but there has to be a better choice. Heck, even the Princess herself would be better qualified to do this whole 'agent of fate' thing than I am.

For years, everyone's been telling me about how much of an honour this is, how lucky I am. I get to play this big important part in History and fulfill a prophecy a thousand years in the making, ooh, aah, isn't it great. But it's not. It's just stressful and boring uncomfortable, and the stupid costume they gave me chafes.

And I really don't see why we should all put our faith in a guy who can't figure out which way to go if some mystical guy in a leotard doesn't show him in colour-coded riddle form. I mean, how hard can it really be? It's not like there're a whole lot of options around here as far as 'ancient temples shrouded in mystery' goes. Most of them are fairly obvious, really.

Then again, I can't imagine any decent man with half a brain willingly wearing the get-up he's apparently supposed to appear in. I've never met anyone, man or woman, who looked good in a pointy hat. Or seventy feet of gauze, for that matter, so I suppose I can't really judge. He probably has just about as much choice in the matter as I do.

So here I am. My tush is numb and I can only see out of the one eye, and this ridiculous turban thing must be wrapped a bit too tight because my noggin is _killing_ me, although that may just be the dehydration, since I've been sitting in _full flipping sunlight_ for an hour waiting for this bugger to finally show up so I can yammer at him for a bit and then we can all go home. All because, about a million years ago, some dumbass of a king was too stupid to knock out the details of a treaty before all his minions got slaughtered by savages. Thanks a lot, Gramps.

And then something happens, and I don't know what I was expecting, but this really isn't it. I've seen magic before a couple of times, mostly during the few ceremonial hooplas that happen close enough to the barracks to be seen through the bars. Usually some fat guy in a dress waves a wand around for a bit and there's some sparkly lights and then maybe something floats around or explodes or something. There are magical barriers all over the place of course, but I've never seen one of those being cast or created or what have you, and that's different in any case. I've never seen anything like this.

It's like a waterfall of light, cascading upwards and disappearing into the ceiling. It's incredible. I've heard about it and I've seen pictures, but actually seeing it is, is just...

I never really believed that any of this stuff was real. There couldn't be some time-travelling hero, ready to give up everything just so us poor shmucks could live a little easier. There couldn't really be this great magical contingency plan set up just in case someone got stupid enough to try and seize ultimate power. It just couldn't be that clean, that simple, that... child friendly. It was all supposed to be, I don't know, metaphorical.

But it isn't. It's real. There _is_ magic in this world, and there _is_ a plan, and there _is_ a hero, and everything I've been told is true. Well, maybe not everything, but enough.

It's like this window opening up inside my head, letting all the stories and things that've been piling up on the other side tumble in. I can almost make a chain out of it, a logical series of therefores and thus' that could go on forever. The events of the prophecy are starting to come true, therefore the prophecy is real, therefore there really is some kind of plan, therefore there must be a planner or three, therefore everything the priests said is true, therefore there really are Goddesses out there somewhere, therefore... But it doesn't make sense, not all of it, not really, and couldn't there be other explanations, there have to be, because Goddesses can't exist, not _really_, because if they did then why wouldn't they made the world better in the first place, or...? And if one thing is true, does that mean everything is, or nothing is? And can anyone really be _that good_?

And then I see him for the first time, and everything goes silent.

Apparently, it is indeed possible to look _damn fine _in a pointy hat.

He carries himself the way the Princess does. He stands with his shoulders down and his feet turned just a little bit outwards, and there isn't anything unusual about it, except somehow he manages to fill this big empty gods-awful room all by himself, like he's larger than just his arms and his legs and his pretty little head. And he is pretty, but he's hard, too. Stern. Worse than Etin** Impa, even. Except it doesn't take away from him at all, more to the contrary.

He doesn't look like the hero in my head. The hero in my head has a round kind face and big watery eyes, and helps little old ladies up the steps and reads letters to the blind on his days off. He's a useless little functionary who does his job and then goes home to a fat wife and seven fat children. This man isn't like that.

This man is the living incarnation of the weapon he carries, the weapon only he can ever hold. He's beautiful, and he shimmers in the sunlight, but he lives in shadows and blood. For all the gilt and glitter, he is a tool designed to kill, and it shows in everything from the way he holds the legendary blade to the angle of his jaw.

For the first time since the sky went black seven years ago, I believe, no, I _know_ that we can win. Ganondorf doesn't stand a chance.

As I drop carefully down from the little butt-killing ledge and make my stealthy way to the empty pedestal, I finally understand what everyone was talking about.

I'm the first person to see him. I will be the first to speak to him. I will be the one to guide him on his journey, help him, walk with him, and even if I won't be remembered in the legends, well... I get to be here.

I get to know him. And that seems like a pretty cool thing.

I know what I have to say off by heart, and as the words come out of my mouth, they finally feel right.

"I've been waiting for you, Hero of Time."

I've been waiting for you all my life.

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* 'Shadows'. Contrary to popular belief, _sheikah_ does not mean 'the shadow-folk' in Sheikahn. The word _sheikah_ actually means 'the children'._ Tash'en_ is the actual word for 'shadow', and is the word the Sheikah use to equal the 'shadow-folk' phrase. It is also, unsurprisingly, a slang term for assassin.

** Aunt, or more specifically, 'parent's sibling who is of a different gender than I am'.


	2. Chapter 2 Shadows and Lies

Chapter Two; Shadows and Lies pt. I

I'm not sure why I expected Etin to just automatically understand. To her, he's still just a picture in a book and a character in a story, a funny little do-gooder from the past bopping about trying to make the world a better place. He isn't real to her, and she has no idea what he's like. Of course she would be mystified.

"You just seemed so disinterested before, Tajah*, and I am worried about you." She waves a wooden spoon in my general direction and adds just the right amount of salt to the pot, all without looking away from the book perched up on the window sill. I swear that woman has magical powers. "You cannot allow yourself to get caught up in all the fuss and bother. He is just a man, Tajah, nothing more."

"He's _not_ just a man." I'm still trying to get the damn wrappings off my fingers, and the little tiny knot is making me more and more frustrated. "He's, I don't know... He's just... more."

She glances at me over her shoulder and gives me that funny little look she always gets whenever I say something like 'wouldn't it be nice to sleep on an actual mattress for once' or 'I don't see why I can't talk to the chicken girl, she's perfectly lovely if you don't mind the noise'. It's all full of intense suspicion and disapproval waiting to land on me like a tonne of bricks.

"Are you becoming _involved_ with this boy, Tajah?" There is no physical eyebrow raising, but her tone doesn't so much as imply it as make it a metaphysical certainty.

"What? No, of course not." It's just around the one finger that it won't come off, almost as if it were glued on. "I thought you would be happy, Etin. You're always telling me I should take more of an interest in all this nonsense, and now I am."

She stares at me for a moment as our dinner bubbles away.

"An action means nothing if it is not done for the right reasons, Tajah." She speaks softly, which isn't unusual in and of itself, but when in conjunction with me is almost unheard of.

"I'm fairly sure wanting to help the Goddess-chosen Hero save the world is a pretty good reason." I finally decide to give up on the knot and snatch a paring knife from the counter. "Look, I don't want to be friends or anything. He's just less obnoxious than I was expecting, that's all. He just looks like the kind of guy that can actually wage a war all by himself and win. A real Hero-type, right?"

"Hm." The suspicious look dies away a little, although it leaves behind a residue of worried that I'm not entirely comfortable with. She turns back to her pot and gives it a stir. "You were expecting something different?"

"Yeah." I have to work the knife under the bandage, and still the damn thing doesn't want to cut. "I thought he'd be a bit more, I don't know, Hylian. He looks like one, sure, but he acts more like a Sheikah than anything."

Etin knocks the salt pot off the counter and ducks down to clean up the mess. The knife finally snicks through the bandage, but it takes a bit of my skin with it. It isn't a deep cut, but it stings like a damn, _and_ it means I have to put another bandage on _again_, a real one this time.

Neither of us brings the subject up again.

*Nephew, or more specifically, 'child of my sibling who is of a different gender than myself.'


	3. Chapter 3 The Dappled Light

I have officially started putting Sheikahn up on my website. Check it out at .com! I'm going to be putting the Rendition related art up there too, eventually.

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Chapter Three; The Dappled Light

Waiting for him in the Lost Woods is much easier than waiting for him in the temple before. I have a nice thick ledge this time, for starters, with lots of nice thick grass and shrubbery and assorted mosses to sit on, and there's plenty of water around if I need it. The light is strong, but by the time it comes through the trees it's green and cool, shifting around constantly and perfect for hiding in.

It's a nice place, these woods. Comfortable. It's kind of a perfect place, really, when you're up above the monsters and such. It would be so easy to just let my eyes drift shut, just for a second until the Hero shows up. There couldn't possibly be any harm in it, right, to give my eyes a little bit of a rest...?

There's a reason this place is called the Lost Woods, and it isn't entirely because it's so easy to lose your way.

His entrance isn't exactly stealthy. He isn't really a stealthy guy to begin with, and the thud of the thirty foot giants toppling over in his wake echoes surprisingly well in such a closed space. The last one seems to give him a little more trouble, if the protracted sounds of struggle are any clue, but it falls too, and things get quiet again.

He comes into the clearing, confident, but wary. He isn't afraid, even in this strange, seductive place. Of course, this isn't strange to him, is it? He used to live here. This forest was his playground, and he faced dangers like this every day. They might not have been as severe as they are now, with Ganondorf at the helm, but they still had to be there. This place was known for being impossible to navigate long before the Thief King ever showed up.

It doesn't seem fair to me, and that's saying something. He belongs here, but he shouldn't. Even I had Etin and my father, before he died. He never had anyone.

I want to help him. I don't just want to do what I'm supposed to do, I don't just want to pop up and teach him a catchy tune and disappear again. He deserves more than that, and not just because of what he's supposed to be. He's had enough crap to deal with as it is.

Except I can't. That's not the way it's supposed to be. He's supposed to do it alone, and I'm supposed to just be a ghost, a mystery that never gets solved.

He stops and stares at an empty stump, and his eyes get sad. If I were any kind of decent person, I would go down and tell him that it's all going to be ok, that he will see his friend again, if only briefly. I would tell him that the world he knew isn't really gone. It's only sleeping.

But I'm not a decent person. I'm just a shadow, a character, and my actions aren't my own. Not anymore. I have to follow the script, no matter what. Otherwise, the whole thing falls apart, and we can't have that, can we?

It's funny. Before, when I didn't believe in the prophecy, I was perfectly willing to go along with it. Now that I believe, really believe, what I want to do the most in all the world is change it.

So I drop down into the clearing and I say my bit, and I try to put as much expression into my words as Etin does, but my voice is muffled and he can't even see my face. I finally get why I have to wear this stupid thing. It makes me into a floating eye in a flashy costume and nothing more.

Before I disappear again, I tell him that we will see one another again. It's part of the script, and it's something I'm supposed to say, but it's not what I mean. Of course we're going to see each other again, when he reaches the next temple, and the one after that, and the one after that. It's a given, and I think he knows that.

What I mean is, 'You are not alone'.

Just before I leave him alone again, after I've already dropped the nut and there's no more time to hesitate or hang about, this quiet little smile slips over his face, and I know he understands.

I'll play the game. I'll say the words and teach him the songs and show him the way. I'll do what I've been told.

But I've spent most of my life with a woman who condenses whole expressions into a tone of voice.

The prophecy never said there couldn't be something there between the lines.


	4. Chapter 4 The Fire's Glow

ARGH sorry, I completely forgot what day it was. -.-' I finally got my mom to start playing Oblivion and watching her is TOTALLY CONSUMING MY LIFE. It is utterly hilarious. XD  
Got the Rendition art up on my website at www (dot) languapalooza (dot) ca. The new one is obviously going to be late, mostly because I haven't done it yet. I swear to God, in my brain it's Thursday.

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Chapter Four; The Fire's Glow

The plan was to get in and out of the temple as quickly as physically possible. My suit supposedly gives me some protection against heat and cold and such, but it isn't magical. I won't burst into flame or anything, but dying is a very real possibility, especially running around on those bridges right over the lava.

Which, of course, is why I'm currently lying on my stomach on just such a bridge, watching him caper about through the slats.

I can't help it. I was supposed to report in after he freed the first sage, but he never gave me the chance; he didn't even stop for a quick snack before heading back to the Temple of Time. I barely managed to get back before him, even using the secret ways. And then he's running off again and I have to follow right after or risk him arriving at the next spot while I'm still yakking with her Royal Highness. I had to follow him. Watch him.

And now I don't really want to stop.

There's something about the way he goes about his business that's just... I don't know. When he sees a problem, any problem, he stops for a minute and just stares at it, and I can almost see him putting the pieces together inside his head. And then, after a couple of seconds, he acts, without hesitation. It's amazing, watching him figure things out. He takes things that should by all rights be impossible and does them as easy as breathing. I guess that's what makes him Hero material.

The strangest thing is, he doesn't seem to be afraid. He's running around inside an active volcano, jumping over lava pits and running along on bridges that've been there since the dawn of time, and he barely even blinks. It's as if it never even occurred to him that he could fail, that a bridge would give out or that he'd slip and fall. He could die at any second and it doesn't bother him in the least.

And that's part of why I can't just leave, even after having delivered my admittedly slightly more... meaningful than the prophets probably anticipated blurb. He isn't worried about himself, and so somehow it's become my obligation to worry for him. Every time he makes a jump, or swings across a gap, or walks too close to a slightly questionable ledge, I immediately start thinking about what I would do if he started to fall.

I would try and save him, of course, prophecies be damned. The Hero of Time is useless crispy. I can't imagine anyone would complain.

But what if I couldn't save him? What if his little pre-destined bubble of Goddess-given invulnerability isn't as fool-proof as Etin and the Princess seem to think? I've seen him cut and he bleeds just like everybody else. He isn't infallible. He could die, so easily.

That frightens me, of course. He's our last hope of victory against the darkness and the only person in the entire planet with a reasonable chance of going up against Ganondorf and making it out alive. The prospect of losing him is understandably frightening.

For me, it's more than that. I don't know why, but since the moment I saw him standing in the center of that cascade of light, he's been so much more to me than just the Hero of Time. There are very few people in my life I would willingly die for, and he's already become one of them. Not just because of who he is, but because, well... He's my friend. I don't know him, I've never even really spoken to him, but he's still my friend. And I would do anything I could to help him.

And at times like this, when I can't help him, and all I can do is watch and worry and think about all the worst-case scenarios that he is apparently able to ignore, then that's what I'll do. Even if I can't help him, then I can be here. I can walk with him, even if I have to stay in the shadows.

And that's important. Even if he never knows, even if no-one does.

It's important to me.

Below me, he stands at the edge of yet another abyss, searching for a way across. He pauses, scanning the world around him with the kind of intense observation I'd never have associated with someone whose sole purpose in life is to swing a sword around. He looks up to a battered, ancient beam that once supported a bridge that fell into the flames ages ago, and then his eyes drift further up.

He can't possibly be able to see me, not from so far away and not through the narrow gaps between the boards. There's no way he could know I'm here, that I'm looking at him and he's looking right back at me. It's simply impossible.

Never the less, something he sees makes him smile.


	5. Chapter 5 Shadows and Lies II

Again with the lateness! I'm so sorry, guys. I just lost my job and now have nothing to mark the days with and therefore do not know which one is Monday or which one is freakin' Friday. Sorry.

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Chapter Five; Shadows and Lies pt. II

"I'm not sure I can explain it, Etin." We're sitting together on the edge of the Lake, next to the old palace ruins. It's the first time we've seen each other in weeks, the longest we've ever been apart since my father died. "It's not that I don't want to do it, because I do. It has to be done, and I'm kind of... glad it's me that gets to do it, I suppose, but it still... I don't know. It bothers me."

"Which part?" Etin Impa runs her fingers through the dry, dying grass and glancing at me out of the corner of her red eyes, the only thing we really had in common. "Sending him into danger, or doing so without, how did you put it... without so much as a 'pat on the back'?"

She's been busy, too. Apparently there's some sort of trouble brewing in Kakariko, and Ganondorf is actively looking for her Royal Highness again. I can only hope she makes a good enough me to fool his goonies, although I'm not holding out much hope. She has absolutely no sense of humour whatsoever, although I suppose that's not exactly a typical Sheikahn trait. She might actually be better at being one of us than I am.

"Both, I guess." There's a piece of crumbling stone next to my foot, and I tip it over the slope, sending it tumbling slowly down the dry, cracking mud. "He deserves more than just what I'm supposed to say. I really don't see why we have to follow this silly script. Why can't I just talk to him instead of all this riddle nonsense?"

"This is what the prophecy has foretold, Sheik." She looks away and stops fiddling with the grass. There's a certain tenseness in her voice that I recognize but have never been able to properly figure out. "We cannot break from what has been written, or else it will all crumble. You know that."

"I do, but... Why can't I just paraphrase a few things?" The rock makes it halfway down before it gets stuck in the stickier stuff that hasn't quite dried yet. "Or add on a word or two?"

"Because that's not the way things are." She pushes herself standing and turns to walk away. "I do not want to discuss this any further."

I could follow her, but I won't. If the way he's been charging his way through the temples thus far is any indication, he'll be out shortly, and I have to get into position. I wouldn't want to keep him waiting.

And besides, despite what Impa and her glorious royal self seem to think, I'm not stupid, and I'm not deaf. I know they're keeping secrets from me, and Etin is a horrible liar.

Whatever it is they don't want me to know, it isn't going to matter soon enough. We're halfway there.

It can wait.


	6. Chapter 6 Sunrise, Sunset

There's not going to be a picture for this, partly because there aren't really a lot of good images in this to draw and partly because I'm currently busy out of my nose. Sorry. -.-' To make up for it, there'll be two next week. That one has all SORTS of good images. XD

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Chapter Six; Sunrise, Sunset

I didn't know.

I had no idea that Ruto was the sage. I had suspected, of course; she was the only conscious Zora at the time, and it made sense. It was pure luck that I managed to arrive just in time to save her from the encroaching ice, and when luck is involved, the Goddesses and their great ineffable plan are usually somewhere in the background pulling the strings.

I didn't know that they'd met once, when they were both children. I'd met her two or three times over the intervening years, and she'd never mentioned she'd ever even seen him, let alone that he'd saved her life.

That he'd agreed to marry her.

It was all silliness, really. I know that. Even if she wasn't a sage, there was no way the Zora would accept their princess marrying a Hylian, no matter his credentials. Even putting the species issue aside, it simply isn't practical.

It shouldn't matter anyway. Not to me. It's none of my business. He's free to mess about with whoever he wants to, if he wants, just so long as it doesn't interfere with the mission. It's not important and it doesn't matter and I don't care at all.

Only she knows him better than I do.

She knew him when he was just a boy. He helped her, saved her, became her, friend, I guess, although I can't honestly imagine her ever being just friends with anybody. She only met him once, seven years ago, but it's more than I have.

Which shouldn't matter, but it does.

I should have realized it long before this. I'm sure Etin did. I know she knew the last time we spoke, on the edge of the lake. But she didn't want to believe it and I didn't even know it myself, and it was so much easier to pretend that she wasn't hearing what I was saying or the way I was saying it.

I could try to rationalize my own feelings. It wouldn't be difficult. I just don't like Ruto because she's annoying and useless, and thinking about them together only makes me angry because it would be just one more thing distracting him from what he needs to do, slowing him down and taking up time we don't have. The thought of her helping him through the temple, braving its dangers with him side by side only frightens me because of the added danger she put him in, forcing him to protect her when he should be protecting himself.

I'm not jealous. I'm not bitter. I don't regret saving her life, and I don't feel betrayed. There's nothing to betray.

After all, I only want to be his friend.

Except I don't, I really don't. Or rather I do, but it isn't enough. I want to be like her, I want to stand next to him and I want to touch him and I want him to look at me and see something other than this stupid disguise. I want to be _important_ to him. I want him to need me for more than directions.

And I want...

I told myself I didn't remember my dreams. I was too tired from running around all the time, trying to keep ahead of a man with a horse and a head start. What sleep I got was supposed to be dreamless, and it was, it really was, unless you count all the dreams about him.

And when I'm awake and running through the secret tunnels or over the hidden paths and my mind was supposed to be blank except for the rhythm of my movement, I don't think about anything at all, except for when I think about him, and that's all the time.

And when I'm sitting still and when I'm eating and when I'm practicing the songs that'll let him flash about the world in a blink and make my job a thousand times harder than it really needs to be, and when I'm going to sleep and when I'm waking up and when I'm waiting for him, there's just nothing there. Nothing but him.

I don't think about anything else anymore. And I haven't, for a long time.

I've been asleep all my life. I was just dreaming, dreaming the training and the lessons and the running and the fighting. It was all just pretend, and none of it seemed real because it wasn't. And then there he was, standing in a circle of blue light, and that window opened up inside my head and what I saw through it was him. He lit everything up and made me see the world for the first time, and it was because he was in it that it was real, and beautiful, and worth fighting for.

He woke me up. Without him, there would be nothing. No hope, no wonder, no reason to keep on living.

My father taught me a saying, in the old language. _Shan-a-nah ei rushei-eh kari-'i mena-ru-su. _It isn't easy to translate, but literally, it's something like, 'The Sun rises in their eyes.' It means that your day doesn't begin until you look at them, that without them everything is just less, that the world is darker and scarier without them in it. It means that everything is better when they're around, and that you're better, too. It isn't love, because love could mean a thousand different things, but it is what love means.

I wonder what something like that could do to someone who's supposed to only be a shadow.

I think he knows. I think he always did. I tried to put so much into those words, and I put in too much, told him more than I even knew I knew. He never said anything, but... He never said anything at all. He never spoke a word to me. Not one.

And everything is as it was, now, and there are only two more temples to go. Only two more meetings before the last one, the one Etin and Zelda don't want me to know about. I know it has to be there, I've seen the missing pages, I've heard them talking, and I know what they're going to do. I know what I am, even if I don't know what that means. Sheik isn't a person, has never been a person. My name isn't even a name.

It's all shadows and lies, everything. My whole life. No wonder it felt hollow.

And now that I know, now that I know what truth feels like, now that there's this great wonderful shining light inside my head, it's all almost over. There are only two more songs I need to teach him. Two more songs, and then I'm not useful anymore.

I should be angry, but I'm not. I have nothing to lose. None of what I thought I had was ever really mine. Him. Etin. Even Father. He must have known, because why else would he have named me _child_, as if he couldn't think of anything better? As if he didn't want me to have a name at all?

This is how it's supposed to be. This is how it's always been. The Sheikah gave up their right to be human beings long ago, and I'm just the last in a long line of masked faces and silhouettes. I don't mind, not really. There's nothing else that could be done. No other way.

I only wish that I could have a little more time.


	7. Chapter 7 The Dying Day

And this is where Rendition and TWP become almost completely different. XD From this point on, reading TWP gives you little to no clues about what's going to happen next. The settings are the same for the most part, but the situations are very, very different.

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Chapter Seven; The Dying Day

I follow him as he leaves the bowl of the lake. It's hard to keep up with him like this, when he's on horseback and I'm hoofing it, at least without using the underground roads. I have to run, and as long as I'm running I don't have to think.

The fog inside my head is burning away, only there isn't anything behind it. Nothing I want to see, anyway.

He stops and sets up a little camp hours before the sun sets, which is unusual for him. He usually rides through the night, or at least pushes on until he hits a town. He's only ever done this once, when he got caught in a storm and had to wait it out or risk getting his head smooshed in by hail. That temple must have taken more out of him than I thought.

I find a good solid tree and make a little camp of my own. It keeps me occupied for a couple of minutes, and then there's nothing left to do but sit there and wait until the sun goes down.

That's the thing about running. Eventually, you have to stop, and then whatever you're running from catches up with you.

Being near him like this is, well... Terrible. If I were a hundred miles away, I would be helpless and out of any metaphorical danger. Here, I can see him, hear him, if I listen. I could just walk right up and talk to him, appear out of the night and start a wholly new conversation, one that hadn't been written by some crazy old man a thousand years before. It would be ours, and ours alone.

It would be easy, as easy as closing my eyes and falling asleep.

And why not, why not, why not...

There are a thousand and one reasons, but they all seem like excuses. He has to make the journey on his own, but that doesn't mean we can't have a friendly chat. He can't learn to depend on other people to help him, but I'm not trying to. I just want to talk. And there's nothing wrong with that, except that I'm not supposed to.

In the end, it all boils down to not supposed to. Not supposed to do this, not supposed to do that, and why? All these rules are meant to keep us apart, to keep us from getting attached, or at least to keep him from getting attached to me. The mask, the scripts, the appearing and disappearing, it's all there to keep him away from me. Artificial distance.

There's always been distance. All around me, a bubble of anonymity that everyone seems to have tried desperately to protect. They never bothered to give me a proper name, just kept on calling me _child_ until that became a name in and of itself. I've never celebrated my own birthday, although I've suffered through every one of the Princess's. I've never owned anything. No-one's ever asked me about my favourite foods, my favourite color, my opinion. Every tale of a possible new friend, or even the slightest sign that I might want one, is met with suspicion and anger and a tirade of the thousand assorted reasons why I should never trust anyone, ever.

They cut me off from my own life, like putting on a tourniquet before cutting off a limb.

That's the thing about masks, I suppose. Eventually, you have to take them off and throw them away.

And maybe it's time, because now the only 'people' in his little camp are his horse and the little glowing pixie that follows him around everywhere, currently only visible as a glittery wing sticking out from under his pointy green hat. He's disappeared from right under my nose, and I didn't even notice.

So much for keeping an eye on him.

It can't be one of Ganondorf's minions; they aren't exactly subtle, and even if you don't see or hear them, you can smell them from a mile away. Any kind of natural predator would have spooked the horse. It could have been human bandits; there've been more and more of them around these days, as the more conventional and legal methods of making a living withered and died.

But why didn't I hear a fight? Was I really that out of it, or...?

"What are you doing?"

The voice is directly below me, and my lizard brain and seventeen years of hard-wired instincts don't really care that the tone is curiously conversational at worst. Sheikah don't startle easy, but when we do we do it _hard_.

If I were on the ground, I would have flipped backwards and been out of harm's way. Unfortunately, I am in a tree. My shoulder hits a branch and things get all topsy turvey and strange, and the next thing I know I'm flat on my back with the air knocked out of me and a rock digging into my spine.

And then, just as I'm finding my breath, he's here, leaning over me and putting his hand on my shoulder, and it's gone again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." It's the first time he's ever spoken to me, and his voice isn't quite what I expected; it isn't as deep, and it isn't as smooth, and there's an edge to it I never would have expected, even when he's trying to be soothing. "Are you alright?"

I'm not sure whether it's the decreased distance or the angle or the lighting or what, but looking at him is like falling out of the tree all over again. I knew his eyes were blue, but I never noticed the ring of yellow green around his pupils, or the little veins of silver in the brighter parts. His hair isn't all the same colour, either. The parts that are usually hidden under his hat are darker, heading towards brown, and there's a streak of silvery white near his temple, tucked behind his ear.

He has a thin, white scar along one cheek and a bruise almost healed on the corner of his jaw. His lips are dry and cracked.

He's never seemed so human to me, or so perfect.

"Sheik?" He cocks his head to the side and leans in a little closer, his eyebrows coming together. "Can you hear me?"

Right. I'm supposed to respond at some point, aren't I? I should probably start breathing again, then.

I start coughing, and he slips his arm around my shoulders and pushes me into sitting up, which doesn't help as much as he probably expected. He's kneeling next to me, pulling me up against his chest, rubbing my back through the mantle and the bandages and the suit. He pushes my hair out of my face, and his fingertips brush across my cheek. He's touching me all over, more than I've ever been touched in my entire life, and this isn't important to him, it doesn't _matter_, and doesn't he realize this is _not helping_?

He turns his head towards me, and when I feel his breath against my cheek, I realize my mask is down around my neck. He can see my face, all of it, and the heat of him is _right there_, so close. He's wrapped around me, and in me, closer than anyone's ever been.

There's no distance between us at all.

But my lungs are on fire, and my heart is about to jump out of my chest, and I can't think straight anymore, and I just need to be _away_, somewhere where I can breathe.

I shove him away and put a few stumbling feet between us. My heart starts to slow down, and the coughing stops.

If I close my eyes, I can still feel him against me.

I'm so stupid. It's not just that I let him sneak up on me, which is bad enough as it is, or that I fell out of the damn tree. I came too close, got careless, underestimated him. I wanted to be close to him so badly, and now I am, except it's all wrong.

"Sheik?" I can hear the gesture in the words the same as I can in Etin's; the hand reaching out, then falling back to his side; the way his eyes narrow and draw together.

"What?" My own voice is strange and hard and rough. "What do you want?"

"I- Nothing." He moves around behind me, deliberately clomping around as he comes nearer. "I saw you out here, and..."

He leaves the sentence hanging awkwardly in the air. There's all this empty space between us now, only it isn't empty. It's full to bursting with all the things we could say and do but aren't, and every moment that passes it gets a little fuller.

I have to get out of here. I need to just leave, pretend this never happened, that he never talked to me or touched me. We can just go back to the way things are supposed to be, as long as I leave right now.

I don't move.

His hand settles slowly onto my shoulder. It's warm, even through the leather of his glove.

"I wanted to see you."

I turn and look at him over my shoulder, and I know that expression on his face. It's the same one he gets when he's looking at a problem, and he knows exactly where he's going; he just needs to figure out how to get there.

I know this is wrong, or at least it's supposed to be. I might not trust Zelda, but I do trust Etin Impa, and I don't think she would do what she's done to me or tell me the things she has without good reason. There must be a purpose behind it all.

But I can't see it, and the longer I stand here with his hand on my shoulder and my heart jumping up through my throat, the less important that unknown purpose seems, and the more important it is that I not say 'no'.

Sooner or later, it doesn't matter what you're supposed to do. Supposed is just a word. What really matters is what you have to do, what you want to do, and what you can't.

Right now, what I can't do is turn around and tell this man that he isn't allowed to have a friend.

And if there's a little bit of selfishness in there, too... if maybe, just maybe, friends could be something more than friends...

Now that I know what he feels like, I can't deny that either.


	8. Chapter 8 Moonlight

Those of you who have read TWP, do not be crushed by this chapter. I am aware that there is a significant chunk of stuff you were probably looking forward to missing. This has been done for a reason, and what is not here will be paid in full later on. Those of you who have not read TWP, disregard this message.

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Chapter Eight; Moonlight

We sat together around his little fire and talked. Well, I talked. Occasionally he would make a comment about something or gently prod me on, but for the most part, he only listened. The sky didn't open up and rain fire. The earth wasn't torn asunder. No gods or Goddesses showed up to tell us what naughty boys we were being. The crickets were loud and the moon was a little brighter than usual, but that was it.

I told him about growing up in the palace, held at arm's length from everyone I ever knew. He understood the feeling perfectly. He had never quite felt like he belonged, either. He had only ever had one really good friend, and she was gone now too. We've both sacrificed so much for this, and neither of us seems to really understand why.

Why him? Why me? If the Goddesses were so powerful, why didn't they just stop Ganondorf on their own? Why leave the Triforce to begin with if they didn't want anyone mucking about with it? Couldn't they just have made it so no-one could ever get into the Sacred Realm and taken it, or at least arranged things so that someone evil couldn't do it? Put more effort into it that a freakin' mystical sword?

Outwardly, he didn't seem as angry about it all as I was. When he spoke, he was calm, almost indifferent, and his expression rarely changed. There were things between the lines, though, and I understood them as well as he did. Our lives didn't belong to us, and neither of us found it fair.

The fire burnt low, and he got up to fetch some more wood for it. I watched his back disappear into the dark. It was my turn to be alone, with the horse that kept trying to eat the bandages off of my head and the fairy that had buzzed around me questioning me incessantly and trying to get my attention for a good ten minutes before finally collapsing into a little glowing heap inside his hat.

It wouldn't have been a bad life, really. Travelling the world with your trusty steed, completely free of walls and town limits. If only that had been the only thing he needed to do. Without the whole fighting evil thing, it would have been kind of nice.

Maybe it was just me. I'd lived behind walls my entire life, and this seemed like a wonderful thing to me. Maybe all he wanted was a house and a pretty girl and three fat children. He probably didn't, but it was a reasonable dream. There had been moments when I'd considered it, too. Etin Impa had always been there to show me the error of his ways. I wonder if anyone ever showed him.

I can't imagine him as a father. For that matter, I can't imagine him married, or doing anything other than what he does. How could he possibly trade the mythical blade for a carpentry hammer, or a hoe? He would never be a farmer or a craftsman or a cow herd. It was like, when he was being made, all the parts that didn't help him in his quest had been cut away. There was no capacity for normalcy in him, none at all. There wasn't any in me, either.

It's a depressing thought. I've never actually bothered to think about what would happen afterwards, when Hyrule was safe again and we could all just go back to the way things were before. There was no before for me, or him. Maybe there wouldn't be an after, either. Impa and the princess had never let me know how the story ended.

He comes clunking back through the bush, determined not to startle me again. It's odd how quiet he can be with a shield and a sword strapped to his back. He sits beside me, a little closer than he had been before. He stokes the fire and it grows, bright and flickering against the dark.

He doesn't say anything. I think he figured I would take the opportunity to disappear into the night, but it hadn't actually occurred to me. Things were already messed up. I might as well go all in.

I can hear him breathing. He breathes so slowly, in and out, like the rocking of a wave or the ebb and flow of rain against a rooftop. There's a scab on his finger where the edge of the gauntlet bites.

I didn't mean to touch it. He looks at me, surprised and then not. My fingers are on his, entwined between. It's an intimacy I've never shared with anyone else, one I never thought I'd ever have, or even want. _Holding hands_. Who are we, to have such comforts?

There are so many terrifying possibilities here. There is no script, nothing to tell us what to do or what to say. We can do whatever we want.

Anything.

He leans forward and puts his other hand on top of mine. He looks into my eyes, and I look into his. There's such kindness there, and sadness. He's lonely, as much as I am.

"Sheik..."

The way he says my name, it feels like so much more than a name. More than a word, like it has meaning beyond anything a single syllable should hold. There are whole sentences in there.

He pulls my hand up and draws his back.

I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense, and he's smiling at me, smiling like there's nothing wrong, like he isn't pulling away from me.

He turns away sharply, and that's when I notice it too. The smell, like meat cooked a little too long and then left out to rot. It's already thick in the air. Whatever it's coming from has been here for a while. Watching.

He's moving before I can even think, drawing his sword and springing to his feet before the coming darkness. This isn't like watching him from up above, dancing and spinning with the sword leaving silver-blue streaks behind him. It isn't clean or beautiful. They come at him, like twisted, deformed children, and they die by his hands. There's blood on the blade and on his hands and on his face. He doesn't even care. He's totally, completely cold.

He looks over his shoulder at me and our eyes meet, and in that moment I'm more terrified of him than I am of the monsters in the shadows.

But there's no time for fear, not now. There are too many for him alone, and I'm not the princess. I can stand my ground, with him, beside him, back to back as the circle closes. I was never trained for combat like this, but I can improvise. A throwing knife becomes a tiny sword, a chain a flowing shield. It's difficult to kill like this, without the room to manoeuvre or build up momentum, but I can stall them, keep them busy while he does the rest. Even the horse helps, rearing up and bringing iron-clad hooves down on boney skulls.

These aren't smart monsters. There's no room for brains behind the squashed skeletal faces, and in any case, Ganondorf never intended them to be thinking things. They're cannon fodder, a distraction while the real enemy arrives. He knows it and I know it, but there's nothing either of us can do. If we pause, even for a moment, the wave will wash over us and we'll be buried beneath it.

And then he's pressing up against me, and there's no more room. We're getting in each other's way, elbows knocking into shoulder blades and feet getting tangled up. They're too close. He doesn't have enough swinging room now either.

This shouldn't be a difficult battle. He's faced much more challenging foes than this and won, easily. These are only bone children, and he's the Hero of Time.

Only I'm here too, aren't I. Getting in his way. Trying to watch his back and only slowing him down, keeping him from running, going somewhere safer, somewhere with better footing. He can't retreat when I'm here tethering him to one place. I'm keeping him here, forcing him to fight when he should be getting the hell out.

I understand now. I finally understand. There are reasons, there are always reasons, why you're not supposed to. Maybe they're never explained to you. Maybe the person telling you the rules doesn't even know them. But they're there.

And by the time you figure them out for yourself, it's always too late.


	9. Chapter 9 Darkness

Notice! Due to I don't know where the hell my tablet is and can't afford a new one issues, there will be no more Rendition art from this point until I can find it again. Which is really sad, because these were the chapters I was most looking forward to illustrating. -.-'

Anyways, this is the start of a new arc! Yeah! In case you hadn't noticed, all the titles of the previous arc were light-related, and all the ones following will be dark-related. Those of you who read TWP may understand why. I warn you though, this is also where the differences between TWP and Rendition start to get really huge. Thanks for reading this far though, guys, and I hope you follow me all the way to the end.

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Chapter Nine; Darkness

This is how the story goes.

There's a man. He's a lonely man, living far away from the world. He thinks he knows what he is, and he thinks he knows what he wants.

And then he meets someone else, and everything changes.

He falls in love, or thinks he does. He never says it. He never says much of anything. He just believes, and thinks he knows what's really going on. He thinks he knows the way the world works.

He's wrong.

We hold out for a while. It isn't particularly hard. They die easy, erupting into gouts of blue flame and disappearing without a trace, there's just dozens of them, with more showing up in a steady trickle. Link might be the Hero of Time, but he still gets tired, and I was never particularly capable to begin with. I thought I was, but I'm not. I run and hide and sneak about. When it comes to head-on combat like this, the only thing I can do is slow them down and try not to get in his way.

I've doomed him. If I hadn't been here, he would have noticed them quickly enough to get to higher ground where he could pick them off. He would have been able to get on his horse and run instead of wasting his time dealing with little monsters.

But I am here, and now there's no way out. Sooner or later, one of us isn't going to respond fast enough and we're both going to end up dead.

I want to apologize to him, but I can't even breathe anymore. There isn't anything to say in any case. Nothing I say will ever make a difference. It isn't just our lives I've fucked up, it's the life of every decent person on the planet.

The Goddesses should help, damn it. He's they're hero. Even if I end up paying for my mistakes, he shouldn't have to, and neither should all the rest of them. It isn't fair. They're supposed to be good and wonderful, grand things, meddling in our lives for our benefit, trying to make it all better. If there was ever a time we needed some divine intervention, it was now. And yet, nothing. Not even a well-intentioned breeze.

I've failed, so spectacularly it hurts. I should have listened to Impa and the princess. I should have stayed the hell away.

I can already feel myself slowing down. My tiny blade is slippery, impossible to keep a hold of. There's sweat stinging at my eyes, rips in the ridiculous spandex suit where I wasn't fast enough to dodge the long claws or the grinning sabre teeth. I'm bleeding from a dozen wounds and too amped up on adrenaline to feel any of them, but they take their toll none the less.

I have no idea how long I've been fighting like this. It feels like forever.

One of them tries to move past me to scratch at his back. I wrap the end of my chain around its neck and yank it back, but too late. The green fabric tears and a triple crimson line rips down his tanned skin. He shouts and staggers forward, sword dropping for just long enough, shield coming up and protecting him but making it impossible to attack. He can't fight back now, struggling just to keep himself away from the tiny prying hands.

I'm worse off. The chain is ripped from my hand and while I'm distracted another one comes in, lashing out and cutting deep into my thigh. The tendon is gone, the muscle destroyed. I can't stand anymore, fall to my knees, with only the tiny throwing knife and a thin layer of cloth to protect me.

One comes at me, eternal grin just a little more malicious than usual. There are three more behind it, ready to take its place should it fall.

I can't take them all. I might not be able to take one of them.

I'm going to die, and he'll be left here alone.

His arm wraps around my chest and I think he's pulling me to my feet, but he isn't. He's shoving me into the ground, arching over me and pressing his palm flat against the earth. He's covering me, or trying to, and it's such a noble, futile gesture, if my heart wasn't already beating a hundred miles a minute it would break.

And then there's flame, licking out from underneath the palm of his hand and spreading outward like a whirlwind. It swirls and dances around us, turning the skull kids into so much dust and ash and embers on the breeze.

The storm dies away into silence. The night holds its breath, and for a moment, the only sounds I hear are the thump of my heart, and his alongside.

Divine intervention...

Maybe the Goddesses _are_ looking out for us, after all.

He draws back, sitting up and offering me his hand, as if he weren't as bad off as I am. There's a line of scratches across his face, another along his arm where the gauntlet didn't protect him, a third slicing through the fabric of his tights. The one on his back, the one I couldn't stop, is the worst. Aside from my leg, I've got nothing a potion won't solve.

I've never felt so ashamed. Every single drop of blood he shed tonight was my fault. If it wasn't for... whatever he did, we would both be dead and the world would find itself without a protector.

But he did it. He fixed it, saved me, got us both through it alive and more or less in one piece. He's the hero, so much grander than I'll ever be. He saved my life, and even though it was my fault we were in danger in the first place, he still offers me his hand.

In the darkness, a slow, steady beat. Clapping.

He's up again, sword in his hand and shield at the ready. He doesn't look afraid. His arm is steady and his stance is strong, despite the blood trickling down from just about everywhere.

I'm unarmed, my throwing knife lost somewhere among the ashes, crippled, barely able to stumble vaguely upright. All I can do is stand behind him and hope that figure emerging from the shadows isn't who I think it is.

Of course, since when am I ever that lucky.

"Very nice." The Shadow King steps out into the ember-light, and I realize with a sort of sickening shock that he's talking to me. "I wondered if you had the skills to match the get up."

Link steps in front of me, pointing the blade into the larger man's chest. He doesn't even flinch.

"I'm going to kill you." It isn't a threat, or even a promise. He says it like a fact, a metaphysical certainty, like the sun burning out or a comet eventually whirling off into space.

"Maybe later, kid." Ganondorf waves his hand, and Link goes flying, brushed aside like an annoying insect. He disappears out into the dark, and although I don't see it, I hear the crunch as he hits something.

It doesn't make any sense. He's the Hero of Time, he was _born_ to do this, to fight the King of Evil and win. He should be the strong one, the powerful one. Instead, he's just... nothing. I know he wasn't ready yet, still two temples away, but that isn't the point. Ganondorf shouldn't even be able to _touch_ him.

This isn't how things are supposed to be. Then again, that's what I wanted, wasn't it? Something different. Something the Goddesses didn't have planned.

I'm not afraid of him, or at least I don't think I am. I don't feel afraid. My heart is hammering away in my chest and I can't breathe in enough air, even when I'm taking in great heaving sobs, and if my body wasn't completely locked like a day-old corpse I would be running right now, but I don't feel any of it. It's far away, like I'm someone else, just watching this poor terrified sop standing there waiting for the great nemesis to tear me to pieces or whatever else he has planned.

"I knew you would show up sooner or later." He reaches out, grabs my chin with hard, callused fingers. "I've been waiting a long time for this, Princess."

I don't have time to think about what that means before he's snapping my head to the side. Something cracks, and the world disappears.


End file.
